


Flourish

by Sybariticfanfiction (SybariticReyna)



Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Celebrity Gossip about the Horsemen essentially, Conspiracy Theories, Fluff, Multi, Post-Game(s), Sleepy Kisses, Sort Of, and where the human fits into that, listen yall know the score
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 23:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13375530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybariticReyna/pseuds/Sybariticfanfiction
Summary: As it turns out, wanting to take War on an ice cream date is a terrible idea.





	Flourish

War really isn’t fond of any particular genre of movie, but he likes accompanying you. Plus, even in his smaller, even more human like form, War is a little… shall we say  _ eye catching. _ So it’s better to be in places like the movie theater, where no one is really paying attention to “that dude and his date in the sixth row”. It’s also a pretty safe bet to go to restaurants and things like that at later hours, when there’s less people.    
  
It’s for that reason you requested getting ice cream after sitting through a rather disastrous film. War groused about it,  _ of course,  _ saying you’re not in warm enough clothes to be walking around downtown, let alone with ice cream, but he did eventually relent.    
  
As it turns out, wanting to take War on an ice cream date  _ is _ a terrible idea.    
  
You wake up to War growling and your phone buzzing insistently, the lit up screen too bright for six in the morning.    
  
“Who the fuck…” You say, words thick with sleep as you try to maneuver over War to grab the phone. The Horseman might be a little too big for your bed, even if you did buy the largest you could without shifting into the “custom” sizes that cost an arm and a leg (there’s only three arms between the two of you to begin with! That’s not the kind of matching you want!).    
  
There’s thirty something texts on screen, making your lips pull into a frown. You’re not usually anywhere this popular. Most of them are from one person too, which strikes you as odd. Rosa isn’t really the type.    
  
She’s a coworker and hesitant friend, you’d say, the two of you sometimes grabbing coffee and doing favors for one another. She wakes up at ungodly hours in order to finish her schoolwork before her kids wake up (four year old twins who you’ve babysitted a few times. They think you’re absolutely amazing because you can lift both of them at the same time).    
  
Suffice to say she’s not exactly a text spammer.    
  
You don't bother with scrolling up instead only looking over the last few messages.

-are you still not awake??   
-jesus  
-guess i can understand if ur dating one of the four   
\- ;)))))) :* :* :8 :*  
-(o fuck. i didnt mean 2 put an eight there)  
-(that was a joke also)   
-just check the news when u get up   
  
You laugh, glancing over at your boyfriend proudly, “Hey, War, do y--”   
  
Wait.   
  
_How does she know?_ _  
_ _  
_You’re up in an instant, throwing apologies to your still sleepy Horseman over your shoulder as you race the living room.  
  
Commercials are the first thing that greet you, but once the actual news comes back on you understand almost immediately what she meant. “Almost” because even after hearing the anchor mention an upcoming segment on _an interesting possible Horseman sighting and what it means for humanity_ , you really honestly truly do not want to believe your ears.   
  
And then there’s a blurry picture of _you_ on the screen, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss War while he holds onto the ice cream, and another of him fixing your scarf with his metal hand, the fake annoyance plain as day on his face (to you, at least). In the final picture it looks like you're headed towards the camera, although your face is obscured by virtue of the fact you were looking at War, the hand not holding his making some kind of gesture.You were probably complaining about the movie, now that you think of it.   
  
You’ve never understood people laughing during horror games or films, but you think you do now.   
  
You’re caught in a strange place between amusement and terror as the news anchors chit-chat about the photos, mentioning forum threads and various people that have already claimed to know who you are, and how _wonderful_ it is that one of the Horseman might be dating a human! Does that mean they’re interested in humanity? Maybe only _him?_ _  
_ _  
_You don’t consider yourself a very jealous person, but people who know nothing about War saying they wanna piece of that and acting as if your relationship with him is some kind of _experiment_ makes your blood boil.   
  
You take a deep breath and ignore the very strong urge to throw your phone at the tv.   
  
_Fuck._  
  
You trace the ragged scars on your hands and the ones crawling up your arms. You and War are not-- the feelings you have for each other are not _impermanent._ To see even a tiny slice of your relationship with him be dissected by strangers makes you immensely uncomfortable. They don’t understand.   
  
Not even his _siblings_ fully understand, but at least they know the whole story.   
  
Still, you can’t bring yourself to turn off the television, or resist the urge to check out these conspiracy theory threads. There’s _a lot_ of them, most spanning way further back than the photos taken last night.   
  
You’re a pretty prominent feature from about one o’clock to present though. The first post you can find of the infamous photos were posted seemingly as they were taken, just before nine o’clock. They get little traction until someone more popular in these circles reposts it, and then its _over._   
  
There are actually already people comparing celebrities to your photo, and more dedicated people doing seemingly less than legal things to obtain line ups of lookalikes. Other people have focused on War, some for proving its him and others for the opposite. The one’s trying to find your identity seem to be already convinced it is in fact War.   
  
_What do they want?_ _  
_ _  
_You can’t imagine what good it would do them to know who you are or what you do, or how you came to be dating one of the Horseman.  
  
Your hands are shaking when you close the app, and while you can’t think of a good way to reply to your friend, you do send a simple “thanks i hate it” in return. Memes are much easier than trying to say “thank you for informing me but What The Fuck is wrong with humanity i can’t fucking go on a date w/o going viral?” without sounding aggressive.   
  
War is still halfway asleep when you return to the bedroom, his bright eyes squinting at you as you enter. “What happened?”   
  
You take a deep breath. “Humanity is fucking terrible.” Your voice comes out shakier than intended, like just being around War makes you so comfortable you get _more_ emotional. Which is… probably the case.   
  
War blinks. “What?”   
  
You make a jerky movement towards the living room, knowing full well that he can do many things but seeing through walls is not one of them. “There’s. We.” You don’t know how to start. “You were right. We shouldn’t have got ice cream.”   
  
War looks _extremely_ confused, but still willing to let you throw yourself on top of him, phone abandoned at the edge of the bed. Being without armor doesn’t actually make him all that much softer, and he radiates near uncomfortable amounts of heat, but you’ve long since associated him with safety and love. And he _has_ gotten softer since the revival and the End, although exclusively in a personality sense.   
  
He’s still very much the big and terrifying Horseman you met in the ruins _physically._ _  
_ _  
_“I enjoy being right much more when it doesn’t upset you.” He says, punctuating it with a yawn that distracts you, however momentarily, from your stress. Sleepy nephilim. You got a pretty boyfriend. A pretty boyfriend who razes cities without breaking a sweat and single handedly killed the Destroyer’s five Chosen.  
  
God, you love him.   
  
As if he can hear your thoughts, he glares up at you. “Well?”   
  
“Sorry, you distracted me.”   
  
His lips twitch and although Strife is the smug little shit of the horsemen, War could certainly give him a run for his money in this particular moment.   
  
“Anyway. Uh. well,” you make a face. “Remember how when I moved back here-” Here, meaning Earth, of course, “-I wanted to keep us a secret?”   
  
He nods. “You claimed humans would find such a relationship… interesting?” He looks confused, like that isn’t quite the word he wants. You probably used some much more colorful language to make him understand the concept of paparazzi.   
  
“Yeah. Exactly. Wanna go see what's on the news?” You deadpan.   
  
It takes a moment for him to connect the dots between a need for a secret, your behavior, and the news, but he clearly gets it. His lips pull back, inhumanly sharp canines on display. “No.”   
  
“Yup.” You pop the ‘p’ sound, purposefully casual. “They’re already trying to fucking sleuth out my identity.”   
  
He doesn’t say any of the threats he’s obviously thinking, but you get the picture. You sigh. “Guess I’ll have to move back to the Horsemen’s realm for a while?” You don’t like it there very much (“there” being a long since abandoned realm that the horsemen now call their own), seeing as there’s really not all that much to do except hang with War and his siblings or explore the almost entirely barren world. It has vegetation and small animals that somehow escaped the devastation, but there’s only so many weird amphibious rabbit things you can adopt and subsequently have escape before you admit to loneliness.   
  
Humans are a social species. Being around other people helped you recover quicker from the trauma that was your quest with War and it makes you feel generally _better._ Livelier, more fun.   
  
But you are _so_ not becoming a celebrity. Fuck that. No thanks.   
  
War’s scowl lessens by a half degree. “You are always welcome but… You prefer it here.”   
  
“Not when there’s people… like them. I don’t want our relationship to be a source of entertainment to other people.” It’s sweet that he noticed you like it better among  your fellow humans though. You scooch up, just enough to kiss his forehead marks. “I love you.”   
  
You wonder if there’ll ever be a time in which War _doesn’t_ look absolutely stunned by a random declaration of affection. As if you don’t tell him every chance you get or something.   
  
You’d think after almost five years since The Quest he’d be used to it. Or at least not Completely Shocked.   
  
You kiss him again, _properly_ this time. Soft and sweet. He’s yielding underneath you, happy to allow you to take the lead. You sometimes wonder if that’s not just because he’s naturally like that in bed but also that he’s scared of hurting you. It would be pretty fuckin easy for him to do so.   
  
All the more reason having him like this is _exhilarating._ You like being able to take care of him.   
  
You must have the dopiest smile on your face when you pull away, because War laughs at you. “What?”  
  
“Nothin.” You shrug and cup his face between your hands. “My big scary nephilim. So fearsome.” You try to keep your expression straight, but you really can’t.   
  
He snorts, one side of his mouth pulling into a snarl.   
  
“We should get up. Make food and stuff.” You say decisively. You don’t feel all that hungry but you should have a snack to ward off low blood sugar. Plus, War gets stressed if you don’t eat a few times a day. And by “stressed” you mean he tries to hide his worry by taking matters into his own hands. Combine his inexperience with his impatience and you’ve got many a burned and/or raw dinners.   
  
“And stuff.” He agrees, completely oblivious to your mental debate. He doesn’t actually try to get up, or remove the heavy hand that at some point came to rest on your lower back.   
  
You raise an eyebrow. “What are you thinking about?”   
  
“If we get up you will want to check your phone again.” He motions to where you set it down.   
  
You still haven’t gotten used to War, Horseman of the Apocalypse, saying stuff like ‘phone’ and mimicking your speech patterns. You know that’s _a thing,_ that couples and friends do from spending so much time together but its _weird._  
  
Weirder might be when you can’t remember a word and use its _nephilim_ counterpart. You’ve never seen a barista so startled as when you forgot the english word for “cup” and War had to translate through his laughter.   
  
You  smile at the memory before getting back to Business. “So, are we just gonna stay in bed all day?”   
  
War seems to be debating that very thought. “We could.” He offers. “I am capable of putting frozen food in the oven for you.”   
  
There’s a challenge in there, making you choose between accusing him of not being able to do so and staying in bed all day. It’s not exactly a hard choice, but you still make a show of narrowing your eyes and glancing at your phone. “I can check it without getting up you know.”   
  
For someone so large War sure can move quick when he wants to. Your phone is expertly thrown into a pile of dirty clothes before you can blink.   
  
“And they say _Strife_ is the worst.” You grumble.   
  
“They,” War repeats, the question clear.   
  
“Just they, my dude. Them. The general consensus of people who know the Horsemen,” you shrug.   
  
“You are aware most that meet us personally die,” War says.   
  
You roll your eyes. “Obviously.” You didn’t go on a whole journey with him and not realize that the nephilim usually solve things with their weapons. Granted, War also did a fair amount of threatening Samiel and collecting shit for Vulgrim.   
  
War smiles, and though this one is barely there, you’re pleased to have caused such an expression. You’re happy when he’s happy.   
  
You don’t say “I love you” out loud this time, although you are _very_ tempted to do so. Instead you trace the markings on his forehead, watch him close his eyes and lean into your touch. He’s much more open to physical _affection_ than he used to be, but he’s always been tactilley oriented. Casual touches between the two of you were never a rarity, regardless of relationship status. His siblings are the same way, always leaning over to fix your hair and taking the seat right next to you even if there’s plenty of space.   
  
You still haven’t figured out if they’re like that with everyone brought into the fold or if its an instinctual thing that tells them “small kind human won’t hurt us” and therefore makes them inordinately comfortable around you. Either one is fine, but the latter seems more reasonable given their patterns of visiting you after missions for cuddles and complaints. You’ve become somewhat of a comfort for them it seems.   
  
The only times you now go on missions is when they require a lighter touch, literally or in the sense of negotiating with demons, your fellow humans (you wear a mask and armor while dealing with humans, keeping up the appearance you’re something _else_ despite your comparatively diminutive size), or very rarely angels. Angelic people are much more… blunt in their dealings, generally speaking, so it’s uncommon for your expertise to be required. Demons and humans are both dicks though.   
  
Exhibit A) Humans are probably trying to track you down even as you chill with War, simply because you _are_ chilling with War.   
  
You glance at your phone contemplatively. “Can I at least message Rosa back?” You’re going to have to deal with this entire fuckin fiasco eventually, and messaging your friend back seem like a good starting point.   
  
“Later.”   
  
You would contest it, or ask how much later “later” is, but War kisses you and all thoughts of responsibility and getting up disappear.   
  
(Rosa gets another text just after seven o’clock, an image of War growling at the TV screen and yourself smiling. - __me?? dating a horseman??? perish the thought. ) 

**Author's Note:**

> yall know its my birthday tomorrow? the fifteenth of january?? anyways im writing abt Fury and Lady Maria all day and no one can stop me 
> 
> anyways title is a reference 2 the fuckin "then perish/flourish" meme bc the oc i use as a base for the reader in war fics would find it hilarious and so does [my wonderful beta reader](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mcfuck/pseuds/mcfuck)


End file.
